


in another time

by redledgers



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Extended Metaphors, F/M, Introspection, eve is working through some shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21773776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redledgers/pseuds/redledgers
Summary: She tells herself she wants this too.
Relationships: Eve/Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 29





	in another time

**Author's Note:**

> _So, don’t make promises to me that you’re gonna break  
>  We only ever wanted one thing from this   
> **Don’t paint, wonderful lies on me that wash away**   
> We only ever wanted one thing from this   
> Oh, in another place, In another time   
> What could we have been_
> 
> _**Felt like something special, but it never felt like love  
>  Wonder what we could be living in another life **  
> Catch us in the mirror and it looks a lot like love   
> Then you stop me talking, as you kiss me from above_
> 
> \- "Another Place", Bastille

His fingertips paint fire on her thighs, her belly, her breasts, her lips. Promises seared into her skin like the ones made before the Garden was nothing more than a place they had shared together. A devil of his word, and she drinks it in eagerly, finding what she needs in the comfort of what she knows. It doesn’t matter if he lies, if he shadows the truth in the contours of her body. He draws up a map of her most secret places, keeps it for himself because this too is for them alone. For him alone.

She tells herself she wants this too.

She believes it, for a time, as if it were a part of her bones, the tether between her soul and her aching body. It makes sense, he makes sense, _they_ make sense. She finds meaning wherever she is able, paints sigils on his skin as if they would bind him to her. She looks at their reflection in the mirrored ceiling before her eyes close every night, as if they were just two stars, suspended in nothing and reaching for each other. Because at one time, each other was all they had.

But now she cannot compete with the stars, not where they make their homes in his eyes, not where they burn in his soul, their light seeking somewhere else. Someone else. What if she had come sooner? Not come at all? What life could she have made with him beside her, neither made for Heaven but neither for Hell either. Existing somewhere in the ether, between the ending destinations with nothing but the start to go back to. 

_You could have been glorious,_ something tells her. _You could have had so much more with the power of angels at your side_. But she has no need for his stars and he has no need for her fruit, and yet they continue to try to give what the other does not want. Because they must, they must, they _must._ They diverge, again and again, cast out each time, though never by the same lips, never by the same hands. 

She tells herself she wants this, too.

But she cannot make this lie stick, watches the ink wash from her skin before it has even touched her, and she knows, she knows, she _knows_ that to go back would destroy her. It would destroy him. To go forward would destroy them, but don’t flowers bloom from the ashes of the forest? Is not life breathed into the world after death? Does she not deserve a third chance at redemption, this time by her own hand? 

She does not sleep. Cannot sleep, in truth, for two nights after she leaves. But on the third night, she dreams. She dreams of the Garden, spread out before her, verdant and sprawling. She dreams of his body above her, below her, within her. She dreams of the fall, his fall, _her_ fall, until she has nothing left to dream, until she has woken with tears dried on her cheeks. A catharsis, a baptism. The ink drips down her wrists in rivulets dark enough to be the space between the stars. 

She tells herself she wants this, too.

And this time, she does.


End file.
